


Just Remember Me When

by vayleen



Category: Adventures of Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grown-Up Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-02
Updated: 2007-07-02
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vayleen/pseuds/vayleen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>We used to be friends.</i> James Neutron thinks about his past during poker night with his best friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Remember Me When

_"A long time ago, we used to be friends  
But I haven't thought of you lately at all  
If ever again, a greeting I send to you,  
Short and sweet to the soul is all I intend"_  
\- The Dandy Warhols, _We Used to be Friends_

 

In the World of Men, Poker Night was symbolism; a night when gentlemen came together with money, snacks, cigars and beer and celebrated their machismo using the knowledge of a card game that was one of the basic vindications of manhood - poker. 

This time the poker group happened to meet in New York City, since it was the easiest place for everyone to meet that month, and one of them owned a penthouse there. Around a table sat five rather wealthy young men playing for the twenty-five grand that sat locked in an old-fashioned wooden money box next to their host, a rather sullen looking Dr. James Neutron, who was surly only because one of his friends had the foresight to bring a regular money box to avoid another mechanical safe incident that occurred last time Neutron hosted the game. (For Vox could not tell the difference between one hundred dollar bills and empty peanut wrappers.)

Yet perhaps the real reason James was getting downright churlish was because of the turn of the conversation.

Usually they all talked about “guy stuff,” or work; James and his coworker Jack Chanterelle would talk about the progress of Neutron’s projects in collaboration with NASA and the CNES, Carl would talk about his farm in South America, which only seemed to fascinate Rick (who was probably in love with Carl but no one wanted to say that they _knew_ that) and everyone would talk about Sheen’s work, since, as a male supermodel, he was often working with the most beautiful women in human existence. (Or, at least, everyone but Rick - and maybe Carl - unless they were actually talking about the clothes.)

Somehow the conversation went to Sheen’s latest assignment, when he modeled the week prior with a promising young actress for Duce Jeans. Jack had just learned from Sheen that he knew this woman personally in high-school, and therefore so did James and Carl, much to James’ chagrin.

“You guys were _friends_ with Cynthia Vortex?” Jack asked, incredulously. 

It was one of those questions that wasn’t really a question. Normally the human habit to put an inquiring inflection at the end of a statement wouldn’t bother James, but for some reason it grated on his nerves. Jack was a rocket scientist. He shouldn’t ask stupid questions.

Dr. Jackson Chanterelle, who originally hailed from France, was probably the only person James was particularly close to in the aerospace industry, even though he had a good ten years on James. Jack was eccentric and sported dreadlocks, which made him seem like the mad scientist he sometimes pretended to be. But he was brilliant and still considerably younger than most of the others James worked with when he was collaborating projects with a space agency, so it was natural that they became good friends. They also had a lot of common. Both of them were fascinated with space settlement, technology, and they hated the red tape they had to go through to progress in scientific theory. (Which was one of the main reasons Jack was fond of James, since the younger man was only affiliated with the world’s space agencies, and often went behind their backs to further conduct his experiments when he felt litigation wasn’t being timely enough.)

Another thing they had in common, James mused darkly, was an interest in petite blonde actresses.

“Do you have her number?” Jack asked Sheen, in a tone that obviously meant he was joking.

Before Sheen could say anything, the chip James was rolling between his knuckles snapped. Everyone turned to look at it, Sheen trying not to laugh and Carl looking a little concerned. Jack, being, after all, a rocket scientist, easily deduced the reason why the poor little piece of plastic was victimized.

“Wait,” Jack said, eyed widening. “Don’t tell me you two-”

“Fine, I won’t,” James interrupted.

“It was only for a little while anyway,” Carl said.

James rolled his eyes in exasperation. “For the love of Marie Curie, Wheezer-“

“Yeah, Carl, the strange and fascinating relationship of Neutron vs. Vortex is no conversation for the poker table,’ Sheen said.

“‘Neutron vs. Vortex?’“ Rick, the normally quiet math professor, asked. He had been shuffling the same cards for ten minutes, but the movements had become automatic and no one seemed to notice he hadn’t dealt the next hand yet.

“They were rivals for as long as they knew each-other back in the day-“ Sheen started.

“Whatever happed to ‘not a conversation for the poker table?’” James asked.

“You had a rival?” Jack asked, getting more and more interested in the turn of conversation.

James’ vexation went unnoticed by everyone. (Or, at least, everyone but Carl. And maybe Rick.) If there was any subject James Neutron was uncomfortable talking about, it was his, presently nonexistent, relationship with Cynthia Vortex; the potent intensity of which seemed to culminate when they were in eleventh grade. Back then, their rivalry hinged on, not only graduating high-school a year ahead, but which of them would receive valedictorian, much to the collective annoyance of the Retroville High class of ’09.

Both of them were already successful; Cynthia had already guest-starred in a few TV episodes and had won grants and scholarships thanks to her positively radiant creative force and public speaking skills. James already had universities and academic institutions in the scientific community ravenously fighting over his enrollment, each one practically paying him to attend their school. And as much as James was proud of this at the time, it didn’t come close the emotional peak he’d get besting Vortex at whatever academic “contest” they happened to be fighting over. 

When it happened, and the true nature of their rivalry was suddenly _finally_ out in the open, in was like a racecar had suddenly been put in reverse and was speeding backwards on a highway at two hundred miles an hour. James couldn’t see where they were going but during the last three months of high-school, when he was “officially” dating Cynthia, he reached a poignant fervor that was unequal to any other experience in the twenty-four years of his young life. (This would be extremely significant to those who knew of the wondrous experiences James had to compare it to, even in the first decade of his life.)

Therefore reliving it, even the fraction he felt when her name was mentioned, was almost physically painful.

“I’ll be right back,” James said. He abruptly rose and headed upstairs towards his kitchen.

When James was safely upstairs and in the large, airy room that made up his living and kitchen area he ran his fingers roughly through his hair and desperately cleared his mind of his memories. He grabbed a beer from his fridge and sat at the breakfast nook that separated his living room from the kitchen, facing the large windows that made up his far wall, elbows resting behind him on the counter. He had already drank most of his beer in several large gulps when he realized, for one, he was downing it too fast, and two, alcohol was probably not the best form of distraction.

Lucky for him, Sheen and Carl chose that time to follow him up.

“You alright, Jim?” Carl asked him.

“Swell,” James answered shortly.

Sheen, who would have sooner avoided conversing about his last job to avoid this situation, studied his friend. James seemed whole, for the most part, but he had a glazed look in his eyes as he stared out the window, an overpass view of one of New York’s busiest freeways. 

“You sure?” Sheen asked.

James looked over at his friend, who had his own experiences with childhood sweethearts to contend with, though arguably much unhealthier considering Liberty Folfax also worked in the fashion industry. James could deduce that Sheen and Liberty were currently in one of their “off years” since Sheen Estevez was currently not sporting any of Freedom Fashion’s products. Maybe Liberty was engaged again. Maybe Sheen accidentally (or intentionally, as he was sometimes prone to do) signed a contract with a rival company.

But at least they had “on years” while James had zip.

He didn’t answer Sheen.

Wondering if this was really a smart thing to do, and then deciding he was always the one to go with his gut rather than analyze every little thing like James, Sheen decided to bring up the events at Duce Jeans.

“You know,” he started, “She kind of asked about you.”

The change was substantial. They could practically see the electric charges the neurons in James’ brain set off as he quickly played every possible “what if” scenario significant to Sheen’s statement.

“What did she say?” Carl asked.

“Nothing really. She just wanted to know if we were still friends and I told her we hung out from time to time. Then she just sort of nodded,” Sheen said. He hesitated. “I saw her later biting at her cuticles and manicure, completely distracted until the photographer slapped her hand away from her mouth.

“I was surprised to see her, actually. It had been awhile. She’s doing pretty well, I think. She got a role in a movie-”

“Supporting actress in a summer horror flick. Not a substantial part or movie but a good starting point for a highly successful television actress,” James stated, still staring out the window.

Sheen looked surprised. “Right,” he said.

Sheen and Carl exchanged a look. It was like they were all in sixth grade again and James had suddenly said something that completely ousted his current pattern of thought.

“Maybe... maybe you should call her, Jimmy. For old time’s sake or something,” Carl said. “After all, you used to be friends.”

James pondered this. It wasn’t too far fetched. He could just say that Sheen mentioned her movie role and he wanted to congratulate her personally. He could do it next time he was in Pomona. If he was lucky she wouldn’t hang up on him. If he was really lucky she might even be interested in seeing him and he could make the drive from Pomona to Studio City with his new hover car in a few minutes flat...

He shook his head to break his reverie. No sense in getting too carried away.

“Maybe just an e-mail,” he said. But he had significantly brightened enough that his long-time friends were reassured.

“Well, we better get back to the game. When we left Jack was in the middle of one of his crazy college stories and I don’t think that should get too far before his monologue sends Rick hiding under the table,” Sheen said.

“Right,” James said, hopping off the stool and knocking back the rest of his beer as he followed Carl and Sheen back downstairs.

Hopefully he wasn’t distracted enough to lose a twenty-five grand game.

At the same time, the game didn’t seem to matter nearly as much as it did when it started.


End file.
